


whosoever shall offend

by puertoricansuperman



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puertoricansuperman/pseuds/puertoricansuperman
Summary: Kirk and Chekov are captured and tortured on an away mission. Spock and Sulu rescue them.That should be the end of the story. Everyone laughs and the credits roll. But as time goes on, the four survivors struggle to cope with their experiences. Healing takes time.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov & Hikaru Sulu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	whosoever shall offend

**Author's Note:**

> me: ok, I'm going to take a step back from fanfic for a while, just so I have time to work on my original projects
> 
> also me: **writes 5000 words of hurt/comfort/angst fic completely unprompted**
> 
> on a slightly more serious note: I really like h/c fic. I wanted to write something in that genre that explores PTSD and the effects of torture in a slightly more realistic way. I am not an expert on any of this, but I hope I've portrayed it well.

Starfleet Academy required every cadet to pass a course on torture. 

Hikaru had thought it was a mistake, when the class first appeared on his schedule.  _ A311: Torture,  _ nestled between other gen-eds like  _ A222: Theoretical Physics I  _ and  _ C341: History of Diplomacy _ . He’d gone to his advisor, only to be told the Academy considered it an essential course. For three hours at a time, one day a week, they met in a small room in groups of ten, and talked about some of the worst crimes people had ever committed against each other. 

_ “You probably aren't used to discussing this subject,”  _ the instructor had said, at the beginning of the first class. That was an understatement.  _ “Torture has been outlawed by all governing bodies in the Federation for a hundred and fifty years. But the practice still exists. It may always exist. As members of Starfleet, you may encounter victims of torture. You may encounter potential allies who still view it as a useful practice. You may even become a victim of torture yourself.”  _ She had paused, long enough to make eye contact with each and every one of them.  _ “This class is meant to prepare you for these scenarios.” _

Hikaru didn’t know if anything could have prepared him for this.

He noticed the smell first. It crept up on him in the corridor, as he followed Spock along the wall. They moved quickly and quietly. Spock’s flashlight threw fractured shadows along the wall, and a rank, musky smell grew stronger with every step. Hikaru pulled his scarf up, over his mouth and nose. It didn’t help. The stench of urine built in the air until he could almost taste it. Then they rounded the corner, into the cell block. 

“Chekov!”

Hikaru rushed to the cell door. He saw Chekov, upright in the middle of the cell—for an instant, Hikaru thought he was standing up. Then Spock stepped forward, holding the light. Hikaru saw Chekov’s arms, wrenched over his head, lashed to a hook set in the ceiling. He saw Chekov’s bare feet, only half on the ground. He was  _ hanging.  _

Hikaru couldn’t see him breathing.

“Captain.” Spock moved across the corridor, to the cell opposite Chekov’s. Something moved at the corner of Hikaru’s eye. He turned and saw Captain Kirk in the other cell, standing at the bars. The captain had blood on his face. His eyes were wild, pale under Spock’s light. “It is good to see you alive.”

“Mr. Spock.” Kirk’s voice was hoarse. “Get us out of here.” 

Spock drew his phaser with one hand. Hikaru did the same and fired on the door.  _ Us,  _ he thought.  _ He said ‘us’.  _ Kirk wouldn’t have said that if Chekov were dead.  _ He wouldn’t. _

The latch melted in seconds. Hikaru threw the door open. “Chekov,” he said. “Chekov—”

He saw Chekov’s chest rise and fall. The movement was almost invisible. Chekov’s shirt was gone. His back was covered in blood. His arms, raised over his head, didn’t look much better. His feet brushed the floor—he could have stood up, if he were conscious, but he wasn’t. His head lolled against his chest, his eyes closed. He had a black eye. His face was covered in bruises.

“Chekov,” Hikaru said. “Pavel.” His mind raced.  _ We have to get out of here,  _ he thought,  _ we have to go,  _ but he couldn’t get Chekov free on his own. He turned back toward the corridor. “Spock, we have to lift him down.”

Spock joined him inside the cell. He passed the flashlight off to Hikaru, wrapped his arms around Chekov’s torso, and—

“Wait!” Kirk appeared at the door of the cell. The light shone on his face and again Hikaru saw that wild look in his eyes, cornered and desperate. “His ribs,” Kirk said, his gaze darting between Spock and Chekov and Hikaru, “his ribs are broken, they—you can’t—”

“Understood,” Spock said. He moved his hands up to Chekov’s shoulders. “Would this be better?”

“I think so,” Kirk said. “Yes.” He looked back over his shoulder, into the dark corridor. “We have to go.”

Spock didn’t answer. He took hold of Chekov by his shoulders and lifted him down from the hook in one motion. Chekov looked like a ragdoll in his arms. Hikaru crossed the cell to the door, phaser in hand. Kirk flinched away from him.

Hikaru froze. Kirk’s eyes snapped to him. For a second neither of them moved. Hikaru didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to  _ do. _

“I—”  _ I’m not going to hurt you, _ he thought. He felt revulsion creeping up his throat, because of course Kirk knew that.  _ Of course. _

“I believe it is time to go,” Spock said. Hikaru turned and saw Spock holding Chekov in what could only be described as a bridal carry. Chekov’s head rested against Spock’s shoulder. He had a black eye, and a split lip, and God only knew what else.  _ His ribs are broken. Oh, Pavel, what did they do to you? _

Kirk nodded, the movement quick and sharp. “Let’s get out of here.”

Hikaru took point. Spock followed him, and Kirk brought up the rear, holding Spock’s phaser and the light. The prison was pitch black around them, except for the light. Hikaru led them through the maze of corridors, back the way he and Spock had come.  _ Left. Then right. Right again. Left.  _

“Where are we going?” Kirk said, behind him. 

“We were able to access the building without detection via its sewer system,” Spock said. “It is the safest way to leave and return to the shuttle.”

“Of course,” Kirk said. His voice was raspy, strained. 

“Captain…?”

Hikaru stopped. He turned back just in time to see Chekov raise his head, blinking—trying to—in the stark light. “Captain, where…?”

“It’s okay, Pavel,” Kirk said. He went to Chekov’s side, where Chekov could see him. “It’s okay. They found us. Spock, Sulu, they found us.” 

"Mr. Spock—?" Chekov tried to raise his head again. He winced. He had one eye swollen shut. The other flickered back and forth. "Sulu," he said. He gasped. “No—Sulu—” He didn’t have the strength to sit up, but he tried anyway. His movements were frantic. “No, you can’t be here—you have to go—” 

“Pavel, stop,” Kirk said. He put his hand on Chekov’s face. Chekov flinched back, and then pressed into Kirk’s touch. He panted, his breathing raspy and uneven. “It’s okay,” Kirk said, “it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Chekov nodded. He drew in a shallow breath. He laid his head down against Spock’s shoulder. He closed his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kirk said. He kept his hand on Chekov’s cheek. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Captain,” Spock said, his voice quiet. “We need to keep moving.” 

Kirk nodded. He lingered for a few seconds longer, and then stepped away from Spock and Chekov. “Are we close?”

“Yes, sir,” Hikaru said. He tore his gaze away from Chekov, shaking in Spock’s arms, and forged ahead. “This way.”

He turned the last corner and stopped in front of the door they had entered by. The others stopped behind him. 

“We’re at the back of the building,” Hikaru said. “There’s a sewer outwash here. Right outside this door.” 

“The sewer,” Kirk said. He sounded tired. “Right.”

“The shuttlecraft  _ Galileo  _ is hidden approximately two kilometers from here,” Spock said. “Traveling underground gives us the best chance of avoiding detection.”

Kirk drew in a long breath and let it out again. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Tau Beta V might have been beautiful. After the last eight days, Hikaru couldn’t see it as anything other than hostile. Dark purple clouds held the sky in a constant state of twilight. They blocked out all communications between the away team and the  _ Enterprise _ in orbit. The vegetation grew purple, blue, and red, trailing bioluminescent sap that made it nearly impossible to hide. Trees grew in clusters around alien architecture, disguising the landscape, making it difficult to navigate. 

_ Pavel could do it, _ Hikaru thought. Had done it, before the native Tauans discovered them and everything went to shit. He hopped down over the stone outcropping, into the drainage ditch. Glowing liquid splashed around his boots. It was a sludgy color, somewhere between brown and purple, and ever-so-slightly thicker than water. He hated it. 

At the mouth of the sewer, Hikaru paused. He stood for a moment, waiting, listening, staring into the black tunnel. It was quiet. 

“We follow this to the next outwash,” he said, and gestured for the others to go ahead of him.

They reversed positions: Kirk took point, Spock followed him, and Hikaru brought up the rear. Darkness enveloped them once again. Kirk shined the flashlight ahead of them. It reflected off the surface of the water—liquid—and cast a fluctuating web of light on the ceiling. 

The only sound was the faint slosh of footsteps through water.  _ (Liquid.) _ The light played across uneven stone walls, pockmarked with strange, spiky lichens.  _ The science department would have a field day down here,  _ Hikaru thought. He glanced ahead at Spock. They hadn’t had much time for curiosity lately. 

The end of the tunnel appeared in the distance. Kirk started to move faster. Hikaru pulled his scarf up over his face again, a habit developed after days of running and hiding. The fashion on Tau Beta V seemed to consist of loose, layered garments, the same colors as the native plants. Some of them glowed. 

_ Almost there,  _ Hikaru thought, as they passed a rusted-over door in the wall. They’d left the shuttlecraft at the crash site, in the middle of the wilderness, surrounded by trees and underbrush. The sewer let out about a hundred meters from there. The end of the tunnel grew closer, and dim light began to filter around them.

Kirk stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and pressed his back to the wall. Spock and Hikaru did the same. Kirk looked out at the stream beyond the edge of the sewer. Blue and purple plants grew on the opposite bank. 

“We’re clear,” Kirk said, after a minute, and ducked out into the open. They followed him. “Which way?”

“Right,” Hikaru said. He took the lead again. They walked through alien plant life that smelled like vanilla and vinegar and lemon.  _ Almost there. Almost there.  _

Hikaru heard a noise behind him and froze. He looked back over his shoulder, just in time to see Chekov lift his head again. 

“Captain?” Chekov’s voice was weak and hoarse. His right eye was swollen shut, the skin mottled purple and red. His whole face was bruised.

“I’m here,” Kirk said. “It’s okay.”

“Where are we?” 

“We’re going home,” Kirk said. 

“Mr. Sulu,” Spock said, his voice soft. Hikaru started moving again, pushing uphill through the brush.  _ He’s alive,  _ he thought. Chekov looked worse than he could have imagined, but he was alive.  _ He’ll be okay. We’ll get him back to the  _ Enterprise, _ and he’ll be okay.  _ Hikaru moved quicker, eager to reach the shuttlecraft and get the hell off this planet. He could almost see it through the trees. 

“Wait,” Kirk said. The hair on the back of Hikaru’s neck stood up. 

He spotted movement ahead of them. The shuttlecraft  _ Galileo  _ stood at an angle, surrounded by fallen trees and dense underbrush. A ghostly pale figure flitted through the blast zone, glowing blue and purple. 

_ They found us.  _ Hikaru dropped to the ground, seeking shelter in the underbrush. 

The shuttle stood on a low incline, in the middle of dense forest. Black burn marks and dents scored its sides. Tauan aliens moved around it in circles. Hikaru counted six of them—four on the perimeter of the clearing, and two more close to the shuttle. He couldn’t tell what they were doing.

“Captain,” he said. He didn’t look back, but he knew Kirk and Spock were just behind him.  _ And Chekov.  _ They had to reach the shuttle. It was their only way off the planet, with the  _ Enterprise _ out of range behind the cloud layer. 

“On my mark,” Kirk said, “break for the shuttle, both of you. I’ll cover you.”

“Aye, sir.” Hikaru tensed, ready to fire. His phaser was already set to stun.

_ “Go!” _

Hikaru leapt over the rise, already firing. The closest Tauan collapsed—the next dove for cover just in time. Hikaru ran for the shuttle, still firing. Kirk’s phaser crackled behind him. 

He reached the shuttle doors and keyed in the security code. Spock went straight inside with Chekov, while Hikaru covered them. He shot down another Tauan. Then a third. Kirk joined him by the shuttle doors. “Get inside!” 

There was no time to question orders. Hikaru turned and flung himself into the shuttle, ducking for cover behind the reinforced metal wall. He scrambled onto his feet in front of the onboard stretcher, where Spock had laid Chekov down on his back. 

“Mr. Sulu,” Spock said, still calm, despite the firefight outside. “Prepare for takeoff.”

“Yes, sir.” Hikaru swung into the pilot’s seat and started flipping switches. He’d never run through a preflight checklist so fast. He was seconds from firing the afterburners when he heard a strangled yell outside. 

“Captain!” 

“Stay here,” Spock said, and leapt through the open door. Before Hikaru had time to say anything, Spock was back, with Kirk thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hit the control panel to shut the door. “Mr. Sulu, I believe we are ready for takeoff.”

“Yes,  _ sir.”  _ Hikaru hit the afterburners and lifted off. 

As soon as they cleared the trees, the anti-aircraft fire started. Glowing missiles sizzled through the air around them. Hikaru rolled the shuttle sideways to avoid it, buzzing the trees for a few seconds before he pulled into a steep ascent into the planet's atmosphere. He flipped the switch to open the shuttle’s comms. Static interference crackled through the speaker. 

“Entering stratosphere,” he said. “Fourteen kilometers and climbing.” 

More ground-to-air fire. Hikaru rolled forty-five degrees and tucked into a shallow dive before pulling up again. They would have to clear the cloud layer before they could contact the  _ Enterprise.  _ The  _ Galileo  _ had lost a lot of fuel in the initial crash; they couldn’t keep up evasive maneuvers forever. 

“Fifty-five kilometers and climbing.” A proximity alert lit up on the control panel. Hikaru swore. “They’ve got some kind of guided missile,” he said. “Strap in. This might get rough.”

The  _ Galileo  _ was only about five meters long, lined with two rows of seats and a pair of collapsible stretchers, where Chekov lay. Spock and Kirk clustered around him. Even from the back of the shuttle, Hikaru could hear everything they said. 

“He is already injured,” Spock said, his voice low and even. “To risk further injury would be unwise.” 

“If you tie him down—” Kirk broke off. He rotated one hand in a constant, nervous pattern. 

“We have no choice.”

“Eighty kilometers and climbing,” Hikaru called. “Hold on!”

He pulled into a steep climb at the last minute. The Tauan missile shot past them. Numbers ticked upward on the altimeter. The missile slowed, then reversed course and started to follow them again. At 115 meters, they entered the cloud layer. Dark clouds filled the viewscreen. The proximity alert flashed. 

“No!” Chekov shrieked, his voice high and panicked. Hikaru looked back at him—then at the radar screen, at the red blip closing on them. He had to evade. He looked to the back of the shuttle one more time. 

“Pavel, it's okay,” Kirk was saying, kneeling at Chekov’s side, while Spock strapped him down to the stretcher. Chekov was crying. It was quiet, but Hikaru could hear the hitch in his breath. 

“Spock—” he said. Spock looked up at him. Hikaru had no idea what to say. 

“Evasive action, Mr. Sulu,” Spock said. 

“Aye, sir.” 

That, Hikaru could do. He took the controls and executed a steep roll, weaving in and out between banks of clouds. The missile passed them by again, barely visible through the viewscreen. 

He checked the altimeter. “Three hundred kilometers,” he said. “Entering low planetary orbit.” 

Another alert appeared on the console.  _ Fuel level low.  _ They had enough to leave the planet's orbit, but only barely. When Hikaru glanced through the viewscreen, he saw the clouds thinning. 

The proximity alert cut out. Hikaru looked at the radar and saw nothing. “We’re clear,” he said. He pressed power from shields to engines, and the  _ Galileo  _ finally broke free of Tau Beta V’s atmosphere.

The view faded from purple to black. Hikaru sat back in his seat and rolled his shoulders back. He took a deep breath—what felt like the first breath he had taken in eight days. 

Static faded from the comm line. He opened hailing frequencies.  _ “Galileo  _ to  _ Enterprise.  _ This is Lieutenant Sulu requesting a pickup. We’ve left planetary orbit.”

The communicator crackled, and Uhura’s voice came through. “Enterprise  _ here,”  _ she said.  _ “We read you. Sending rendezvous coordinates now.”  _

The onboard computer chimed. Hikaru opened the message, read the coordinates, and loaded them into the navigational program. Then he read them again.

“Sulu to  _ Enterprise,”  _ he said. “These coordinates are…” The computer chimed again. “Where are you?” 

The  _ Enterprise _ had been in orbit around Tau Beta V when they left. She shouldn’t have left for any reason, not with the landing party stranded out of contact, but the coordinates on the navigation screen put the  _ Enterprise  _ on the other side of Tau Beta VI, a neighboring gas giant. It would take the  _ Galileo  _ ten hours to get there. They were already low on fuel.

_ “We are in orbit around Tau Beta VI,”  _ Uhura said.  _ “We withdrew from Tau Beta V twelve hours ago. We’re still not sure why, but someone on the surface started firing on us. Their targeting systems are more advanced than we thought. Damage is minimal, but we couldn’t stay in orbit.” _

Hikaru stared at the console.  _ Twelve hours ago.  _ Twelve hours ago he and Spock had been hiding in the sewer system underneath a Tauan settlement, searching for a way to breach the prison above them and rescue their friends. 

“We’re low on fuel,” he said, after a long moment. He couldn’t find the right words for this. It had been eight days. He wanted to go home. “We can’t—we aren’t going to make it to your position.” 

He looked back over his shoulder. Kirk caught his eye first; he looked the way Hikaru felt, his eye wide, his expression caught somewhere between desperation and horror. Spock had no such reaction. He left the stretcher and moved up to stand just next to Hikaru, bracing one hand against the back of the pilot’s chair. 

“Spock to  _ Enterprise,”  _ he said.

_ “Spock,”  _ Uhura said. She sounded relieved.  _ “We’re picking you up on our scanners. Stay there; we’ll come to you.” _

Hikaru breathed out. The  _ Enterprise  _ could make the trip faster than the  _ Galileo  _ could. Without the engines running, he could divert most of their power to life support. 

“Copy that,  _ Enterprise,”  _ he said.

_ “Navigation reports we’ll cross paths with you in six hours,”  _ Uhura said.  _ “Welcome back, Mr. Sulu.”  _

The sky was black around them, the stars bright, Tau Beta VI glowing brown and gold in the distance. The  _ Galileo  _ coasted forward, even with the engines dead, strangely silent. Every minute brought them further closer to the  _ Enterprise.  _ Closer to safety. 

“Well done, Mr. Sulu,” Spock said. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Spock moved to the rear of the shuttlecraft, back to Kirk and Chekov. Hikaru tapped his fingers against the controls. He wanted to join them, but he couldn’t abandon the helm. After the mission they’d had, he didn’t trust the autopilot to function unattended for even a few seconds. 

He heard the vague clatter of someone rummaging in the shuttle’s aft compartments, and then Spock’s voice. “Captain.”

“I’m not hungry.” Kirk’s voice, quiet and ragged. He sounded like he had been yelling for eight days straight. He sounded exhausted. 

“You may be entering the early stages of malnourishment,” Spock said. “It is imperative that you eat.” 

No answer. Hikaru sensed an argument brewing.

“I’m not hungry,” Kirk said again. 

“Jim,” Spock said. The change in his voice was fractional, but Hikaru heard it all the same. “Unless your captors fed you, which I doubt, it is logical to assume you have not eaten in the past several days.” A slight pause. “You must eat.”

Another long silence. Tension crackled up Hikaru’s spine. He stared at the controls, tapping his fingers in a meaningless pattern, until he couldn’t take it any longer. He looked back at them.

Jim sat in the seat nearest to Pavel, holding his hand. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. He looked tired, scared, shell-shocked. Spock sat in another chair across the narrow aisle, facing him. Jim wouldn’t look at him. 

Hikaru faced forward again. He set his hands on the controls, just to have something to do, and he realized that his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath. 

“Spock,” he said, and looked back again. Spock and Jim stared at him. “I could eat something.” 

The silence lasted for another few seconds. Then Spock nodded. “Indeed.” He handed a ration bar over to Hikaru, who unwrapped it and started to eat. Jim sighed, and held out his free hand. Spock said nothing, but passed him another ration bar. Jim picked at it. He didn’t let go of Pavel’s hand. 

Hikaru faced the viewscreen again. He stared at the planet in the distance.  _ Almost there,  _ he thought, absently.  _ It’s… over.  _

The mission was over. 

All at once, the combined exhaustion of the past eight days crashed over him. Eight days of running, hiding, fighting, and frantically searching for Jim and Pavel. Hardly sleeping, eating whenever they had time. Hikaru blinked to keep his eyes open. The last time he slept had been… sometime before the prison. 

_ The prison.  _

He saw Pavel again in his mind’s eye, unconscious, beaten bloody, suspended in the center of a dark cell.  _ They tortured him. They…  _ He didn’t know exactly what they had done, but the state of Pavel’s body gave him a good idea.  _ And Jim… _

Jim looked beat to hell, too, but at least he was conscious.  _ Pavel is… _

“Mr. Sulu.”

Hikaru startled awake. He had been asleep. He didn’t know how that had happened. He looked left to see Spock standing over him. 

“Sorry, sir,” he said. 

“Your apology is unnecessary,” Spock said. “You are physically exhausted. Allow me to relieve you.”

Hikaru didn’t have the strength to argue. He shuffled out of the pilot’s chair and down the aisle, to the back of the shuttle. He saw Jim sitting sideways in his chair, slumped against the backrest, dead asleep. He was still holding Pavel’s hand. 

Hikaru sat down in the seat closest to Pavel. This close, he could see even more of his friend's injuries. Bruises covered Pavel’s face. He had one eye swollen shut. He had a split lip, crusted with blood, bruises on his cheekbones, his  _ neck. _ Hikaru startled when he noticed that, too worn out to hide his shock.  _ They strangled him.  _ He found himself reaching for Pavel’s wrist.  _ He’s alive,  _ he told himself, but he had to make sure. The battered, silent body looked too much like a corpse. 

He took Pavel’s hand—the same hand that Jim held in his sleep—and pressed his fingers to the hollow between the palm and the wrist. He felt a brisk, gentle pulse against his fingertips. Hikaru kept his hand in place for a while—a minute, then two—reassured by the steadiness of it. 

Pavel’s wrist was raw and abraded, crusted with blood. The bone underneath was straight— that, at least, had been spared. His fingers were swollen, mottled with bruises. His hand tangled together with Jim’s, so Hikaru had to look closely to pick out which bruises belonged to who.

When he realized what he was seeing, he choked on air. 

Pavel’s fingers were broken. More than half of them rested at an unnatural angle, the knuckles swollen and distended.  _ How long—  _ Hikaru thought, and then,  _ why—  _ But he knew why. The knowledge settled in his chest, heavy and nauseating. It was cruelty, plain and simple. Hurting someone for the sake of hurting them.

“There is a medical kit in the bulkhead,” Spock said, from the front of the craft. “It is not intended for injuries of this magnitude, but you may find it of use.”

“His fingers are broken.” Hikaru swallowed past the nausea in the back of his throat. Jim had a few broken fingers, too. 

“There are splints in the medical kit.”

Hikaru found the kit in the bulkhead compartment and got to work. He couldn’t sleep now. He had to help. It felt like too little, too late, but he had to do something. 

He started with Pavel’s left hand, closest to the wall. Three broken fingers, crooked and swollen. Hikaru took the first and began to arrange the bones in slow, gentle movements, along the line of the splint. 

Pavel opened his eyes. “Hikaru?”

His voice was weak. Hikaru stilled, holding Pavel’s mangled hand. “I’m here,” he said. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. 

Pavel frowned. “But… you’re dead.”

Hikaru blinked. “What?”

Pavel looked up at him with his one good eye. His brow furrowed. “I thought—” He stared at Hikaru, and then he started to shake. He looked at the ceiling. “I thought,” he said, “I thought—” His voice shook. He sounded hysterical. Hikaru couldn’t blame him. 

“It’s okay,” he said. He put his other hand over Pavel’s. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.” He wanted to hug Pavel, to hold him close until he was calm, but he couldn’t. “We’re on the shuttle. We’re going home, remember?”

Pavel closed his eyes. He took a shallow breath. Tears clung to his eyelashes. He took another breath and winced. “Hikaru,” he whispered, with his eyes closed. “Sulu.”

“It’s me,” Hikaru said. He didn’t know what else to do. The splints lay forgotten on the side of the stretcher. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Pavel opened his mouth and made a horrible sound, a long keening cry. Hikaru flinched. Jim startled awake next to him, his whole body tense. 

“Pavel,” he said. He leaned forward and put his hands on Pavel’s face, framing his cheeks. “Pavel, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Captain.” Pavel took another shallow breath.  _ He can’t breathe,  _ Hikaru thought.  _ His ribs are broken.  _

“Jim,” he said softly. Jim glanced at him, then at Pavel. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Hikaru picked up the splints again. “He woke up. I was—I was trying to set his fingers. He seemed confused. Then he panicked.”

“They told us you were dead.” Jim’s voice was flat. He moved one hand up to comb through Pavel’s matted, bloody hair. 

“Oh,” Hikaru said. Pavel still had his eyes closed. He had stopped crying. “Does he know…?” 

“Pavel,” Jim murmured. Pavel’s face twitched, like he wanted to respond but couldn’t. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Pavel nodded.  _ His neck is okay,  _ Hikaru thought, with something like relief. 

“Can you tell me where we are?” Jim said. 

A tremor passed through Pavel’s body. “I don’t know,” he whispered. 

“That’s okay,” Jim said. “Don’t worry.”

“I saw Sulu,” Pavel said. 

“Yeah,” Jim said. He looked up at Hikaru again. “I saw him too.” 

Pavel started to cry again. He didn’t sob; he just breathed in and out, as best he could with broken ribs, and tears leaked from his eyes. Jim didn’t let him go. 

“He’s not lucid,” he said. “He’s...” 

“He’s hurt,” Hikaru said. A gross understatement, but the only thing he could think to say. Jim shook his head. 

“It was hard to tell what was real,” Jim said. “Sometimes.”

Hikaru had no way to answer that.

Several minutes passed in silence. “You want me to look at your fingers?” Hikaru held up the splints in explanation. Jim stared at them for a while. Then he gave a quick, tense nod. He pulled his left hand away from Pavel’s face—slowly— and held it out. “Okay,” Hikaru said. “This is probably going to hurt.”

There were painkillers in the medical kit, in pill and hypospray form. Jim refused both. Hikaru didn’t push the issue, though Jim flinched in obvious pain as Hikaru straightened his fingers. He was strangely quiet. Only three of his fingers were broken.  _ Only,  _ Hikaru thought bitterly. He had no idea what other injuries Jim might be hiding.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Hikaru said, as he finished taping the last splint in place. He knew basic first aid, but almost everything he had seen had been light-years beyond that. He didn’t want to cause more damage by accident.

Jim looked down at his splinted fingers. Hikaru kept expecting him to say something,  _ anything,  _ but seconds turned to minutes and he didn’t. He just stared.

“Captain,” Hikaru said, and that got a reaction; Jim looked up at him, blinking. He looked so tired. “If I touch him—” Hikaru nodded at Pavel—“will he freak out again?” 

It took another few minutes for Jim to find an answer. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so. Just make it quick.”

Hikaru nodded and went to finish setting his friend’s fingers. 

It went better this time; Pavel didn’t react to Hikaru’s touch, though he still seemed to be awake. Jim kept one hand on Pavel’s face. The touch seemed to ground him—to ground both of them.  _ Eight days,  _ Hikaru thought. He was exhausted, too; his thoughts were fracturing, spinning out of his grasp. The smell of urine and vomit clung to Pavel. Barely-healed cuts crossed over his bare chest. They were red and inflamed. Hikaru didn’t want to think about that. 

He finished with the splints and sat back in his chair. Jim took Pavel’s hand again, cradling the splinted fingers between his own. It was quiet. 

Hikaru must have fallen asleep again. The next thing he remembered was Spock’s voice, just audible at the front of the shuttle.

“…sustained significant injuries,” Spock was saying, when Hikaru’s tired brain put the words together. 

_ “Medical team standing by,”  _ said a voice from the comm.  _ “Prepare to dock.”  _

Hikaru sat up, rubbing a hand across his face. He looked out through the viewscreen at the front of the shuttle. The  _ Enterprise _ loomed ahead of them. 

Jim stood up from his chair and made his way forward. Hikaru leaned forward, but didn’t stand. He didn’t want to leave Pavel alone. He watched as the  _ Enterprise  _ grew until she filled the entire screen, and the open hangar bay became visible. Spock took the controls and guided them in. 

“We’re here,” Hikaru said. He put his hand over Pavel’s. “We made it, Pasha. We’re…” 

_ We’re alive.  _

He hadn’t seen the  _ Enterprise _ in over a week. Eight days of running, hiding, fighting, on an unfamiliar planet filled with hostile aliens. An endless, waking nightmare, and now it was over. 

It didn’t feel real. 

Spock steered the  _ Galileo  _ into the hangar bay and landed. Hikaru heard the distant hiss of magnetic clamps latching onto the shuttle; then the hangar doors slid shut. 

_ “Two minutes to repressurization,”  _ said the same voice through the comm.  _ “Stand by.” _

“Chekov,” Jim said. He turned back from the viewscreen. “We have to—”

“We have done all we can,” Spock said. “He needs medical attention.”

_ “Sixty seconds to repressurization.”  _

Pavel opened his eyes. 

“Captain,” he said, his voice thin and frightened. “Sulu—” 

“I’m here, Pasha.” Hikaru took his hand, hardly gripping. “It’s okay. We’re on the  _ Enterprise  _ now. We’re safe.” Jim moved in next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he said, “Pavel, it’s okay, just listen to me, it’s going to be okay—” 

Pavel didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes shifted back and forth, never landing on anything. His breathing began to speed up, and tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “No,” he said. “No, wait—”

The shuttlecraft door opened. Hikaru looked back over his shoulder, startled, at the medical crew stepping inside. Pavel’s voice tipped over into panic. 

“No!” he cried. “No, no, please—” His voice blurred into a ragged, incoherent wail. As the medical team moved in he started to thrash.

“Pavel, stop!” Hikaru tried to keep hold of his hand. Pavel didn’t even seem to remember he was there. Jim moved to touch him and Pavel cringed away. Jim flinched back like he’d been burned. 

“Lieutenant, are you hurt?” Someone in a blue shirt pulled Hikaru to the side, away from Pavel. 

“Sulu!” Pavel cried. “Don’t let them! Don’t let them take—” 

A nurse pressed a hypospray to his neck, and Pavel fell unconscious. The medical team started to move him onto a mobile stretcher. 

“Mr. Sulu.” Hikaru turned just in time to see the nurse wave a tricorder at him. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Pavel—” 

The medical team left the shuttle. Hikaru followed them, out of the shuttlecraft and across the hangar. Voices overlapped around him—he saw Jim, and Spock, similarly swarmed by crew members. 

“I’m fine,” Hikaru said again. He saw the stretcher disappear into a lift at the other side of the hangar. “I—” He realized, abruptly, that he was headed in the same direction. He needed to go to the medical bay. 

“He’s going to be alright,” the nurse said. Hikaru turned to look at her and found careful sympathy written across her face. “Ensign Chekov? He’s going to be fine.”

“Okay,” Hikaru said. He believed her. His body just hadn’t caught up with his brain. 

“Can you follow me?” the nurse said. He nodded. “Right this way, Mr. Sulu.”

Hikaru followed her to the medical bay. 


End file.
